


The Kitchen

by Redonkgirl



Series: The Kid [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A part of fate will find a way series, Domestic Violence, Female Character of Color, Future Peter Parker/OC, Gen, Prologue, but you don't have to read that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 18:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11468772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redonkgirl/pseuds/Redonkgirl
Summary: Look in the mirror and see yourself for what you truly are. You’re a New Yorker. You’re a hero. This is your Hell’s Kitchen.The train pulled to a stop but Noriko kept her eyes on the page, not moving until the absolute last second to get off and step into the cold air of Hell’s Kitchen. She paused for a moment and looked around at all the people that walked past her. The teenager subconsciously reached under her sweatshirt and felt the spot directly under the center of her bra. The spot where a straight, vertical scar ran for about an inch.Welcome home.





	The Kitchen

“City’s falling apart.”

 _“World’s_ falling apart.”

The two men nodded sagely at each other as they both took sips from their rapidly cooling coffees. The lines that ran across the men’s dark skins told that they knew at least a little bit about what they were speaking of. The clean shaven one put his mug down on the table while the other took another long drink; both of them quiet for a moment before launching back into their discussion.

“More than just New York’s been hurt. Sokovia took a nasty hit,” the one who’d spoken last pointed out as he placed his coffee down.

“But we’re the ones who lost Luke Cage.”

They both turned sober at the mention of the man that had been dragged through the mud and clawed his way back to exoneration, only to be shipped off to Seagate. People said he’d get out of there in no time, but for now there was a hole where he had stood.

“I’m telling you, ever since Cage was taken out; all types have taken it as a go ahead,” he continued, sending a small smile and a nod to the teenage waitress that was refilling his mug “You heard about the shootout in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Yeah, but Hell’s Kitchen got the one with the horns,” his companion replied as the waitress topped off his coffee.

“Say, don’t you live with Miss Soledad’s girl?”

The waitress looked over in surprise at the man who’d spoken. A piece of her black hair fell into her eyes as she nodded.

“She lives over in Hell’s Kitchen, doesn’t she?” He continued “Have you ever come across the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”

“No, Sir, I stay out of trouble.”

Both men chuckled appreciatively but the waitress stayed still in her rigid stance. The door to the diner jingled open and the eyes of the older men were drawn to the youth entering.

“Speaking of trouble…” the bearded one murmured into his coffee cup, watching the young waitress walk over to the group of boys that had crowded into a booth.

“I’m Noriko; I’ll be your server today. What can I get you?”

The carefully rehearsed speech was spoken with a light, but noticeable Japanese accent. Her eyes were downcast towards her notepad, where her hand was poised to write their drink orders.

“An answer to why the cutest little waitress in all of Harlem isn’t kicking it with me.”

Her eyes stayed on the notepad, but anyone could pick up the way her form had stiffened.

“Jaylen, leave that poor girl alone,” one of the men called, the teenager in question waving his hand dismissively.

“I’ll have a coke,” another teenager said, Noriko sending him a quick thankful look as she scribbled down his order. His words prompted his friends, including Jaylen, to tell her what they wanted to drink. Once she’d written them all down, she gave a small nod and headed off towards the kitchen.

“A girl like you needs someone to keep her safe!” Jaylen called after her, but she continued on as if she hadn’t heard him.

.

Anyone who cared to notice would’ve seen that the Japanese teenager that was walking through the streets of Harlem was wearing clothes that were obviously secondhand. Her jeans were the correct size, but they had obviously been around for a while going off of the rips that were _not_ there for fashion purposes. Her shoes also seemed to fit her, but they were slowly falling apart; the laces fraying and parts of the sole pulling away. Her black hoodie, on the other hand, was obviously quite a few sizes too big for a girl that stood at 5’5, as it hung way past her hips and she had to roll up the sleeves just to have her hands free. Add in some strangely placed holes and a ratty messenger bag over her shoulder and she painted quite an interesting picture for anyone who cared to notice.

But no one did.

She blended into the crowd easily. She was pretty, with jet black hair that hung past the bottom of her shoulder blades when it was in a high ponytail and dark eyes that she kept glued to the uneven pavement. It wasn’t averageness to her looks or her clothes that kept people from noticing her; it was that she didn’t want them to.

“Noriko!”

A rare, true smile worked its way across her features, but it was for someone who’d never be able to see it.

“Hello, Oliver,” she said softly, stopping beside the newsstand and its blind owner.

“New York Bulletin,” Oliver said, passing her the paper she liked and her giving him the proper amount in return “I gotta say, you’re my youngest regular.”

“I like to read about the Devil,” she admitted.

Oliver chuckled good-naturedly as Noriko muttered a quick goodbye and was on her way. It wasn’t long until she was hopping down the steps and was catching the train that would take her back home. Luckily, it was a strange time of day and not that many people were there; the teenager getting a seat before pulling her paper out from under her arm.

She ignored the front page that exalted Maria Stark’s visit to a local children’s hospital and skipped around, trying to find anything that caught her eye. She settled on local news and didn’t reemerge until the train slowed to a stop. Her stop.

Hell’s Kitchen.

The January air bit into her skin as she stepped out of the station, but she stopped and took a deep breath. She’d only lived in the city for a few months, but every time she returned to this part, she felt like she was home.

It didn’t take her that long to get to her actual home and take the elevator up to the fifteenth floor, the top floor. She walked down the hallway and soon came to the door at the very end; unlocking it and entering the apartment.

Immediately, the smell of something spicy hit her and she shut the door behind her. She threw the paper and her bag onto the couch as her guardian exited the kitchen with Thai food.

“Perfect timing,” she said “It’s still hot.”

Noriko smiled back and they both plopped down on the couch and the food was divvied up. The dark haired woman kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and switched on the TV; flipping through the channels until deciding on some mindless TLC show.

“How was work?” She asked, Noriko shrugging indifferently “Yeah…”

They both fell silent and let the sound of a grown man throwing a fit fill the room. Noriko tucked away her food away faster than the average person and was soon throwing her garbage away.

“Hey, Mrs. Weber’s mail was in ours again.”

Noriko looked over at her with no obvious facial expression change, but the intent was read anyway.

“I know, I know. Just… Say that I need your help with something,” she advised, Noriko’s face not changing as she turned and grabbed the bills and credit card offers off of the table “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Claire.”

.

After riding the elevator down to the second floor, Noriko knocked on the first door on the right. An old woman opened it, Noriko nearly groaning as she took in the familiar wrinkled face.

“Your mail was in ours,” Noriko said, holding it out and not voicing her suspicion to _why_ it was.

“Thank you, Noriko,” Mrs. Weber replied, butchering her name “Why don’t you come in?”

“Oh, Claire needs my-.”

“No, no, I insist. I’ll make that tea you like.”

Mrs. Weber ushered her into her musty apartment and Noriko held in a sigh as she shut the door behind her. Noriko was pulled back suddenly by Mrs. Weber tugging on her ponytail.

“I swear,” the old woman murmured under her breath “‘It’s never been cut’ I didn’t cut my hair until I was seventeen and it was never as long as yours.”

Noriko didn’t reply to the words that Mrs. Weber often spoke and she instead walked over to the familiar couch she suspected was from the seventies and took a seat.

“Have I told you about what Tamara in 2D did?” Mrs. Weber said as she walked to the kitchen.

 “No, you didn’t, Mrs. Weber,” she replied, just loud enough for the woman to hear.

“She played music at midnight,” the woman said as she hobbled back into the room; putting the tray down onto the table and sitting down in the armchair across from Noriko “She does it just to spite me, you know.”

“Hmm,” Noriko said, noncommittally as she reached down and grabbed her cup; taking a sip of the under steeped green tea with too much sugar. She considered how she never told Mrs. Weber what her favorite type of tea was, she just assumed.

“Ever since I called the cops on that loud, _drug_ party she was having, she’s been trying to get me back,” Mrs. Weber said, Noriko returning her cup to its saucer on the coffee table.

“I thought the police didn’t find any drugs,” she said softly.

“Yes, well, I know she has them in there somewhere,” Mrs. Weber said “You know, that girl-.”

Suddenly, Noriko heard a loud thump followed by the sound of someone trying to cry quietly come from above them. She sent a look to Mrs. Weber, who just waved one gnarled hand dismissively.

“This happens all the time.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Noriko asked, recognizing what she was hearing as another bang rang through the apartment.

“It won’t do her any good,” Mrs. Weber said “Thea is a stupid girl. She had a steady job cutting hair and everything was great until she started to go out with Russell Bishop.”

“Who?”

“His Father is well connected with the DA and the police department. The only thing you’ll accomplish by calling them is getting her beat even more. There’s nothing any of us can do,” Mrs. Weber said before taking a sip of tea “She should’ve known better.”

Noriko tried to say more, but Mrs. Weber launched into a discussion about every other tenant on her floor. But, it didn’t matter what she said, because Noriko didn’t hear anything Mrs. Weber said for the rest of her time there. All she could hear were the tears being shed above her.

.

“How was your visit?” Claire called when she heard the front door open and close.

Instead of answering, Noriko wandered into the kitchen where Claire was washing dishes. The woman didn’t look up from her work for a moment but when she did, she straightened up slightly and frowned.

“Are you okay?” She asked, taking in Noriko’s strange expression.

“Have… Have you spoken to Akuma-san recently?”

“No,” Claire said, her frown deepening “Why? You didn’t see something to do with the-?”

“No,” Noriko said, cutting off that thought quickly “I was just… wondering.”

Claire nodded like she knew there was more to this, but didn’t press and instead returned to the dishes. Noriko wandering off; lost in her thoughts.

.

“City’s falling apart.”

 _“World’s_ falling apart.”

Noriko listened to the familiar conversation starter as she wiped down the table next to the two familiar men whose names she still didn’t know. Her mind was more absent today, but she tried to focus on her work; Ms. Soledad had been kind to her since the beginning and she didn’t want to disrespect her.

Once she went to the kitchen and returned to refill the men’s coffee cups, they were to the point where the one argued that New York was falling apart even more so than anywhere else was speaking.

“I mean, look at this,” he said, gesturing to the TV in the corner “If Cage had been around…”

Noriko looked away from where she was filling up the mug and to the screen, where a news reporter was speaking over pictures.

“It is believed that Olson had been abusing Gadsden for over a year before he strangled her and threw her body into the river. Many of the neighbors admit that they were aware of what was going on, but no one reported what was happening.”

Noriko was so engrossed by the coverage that she didn’t even realize that she was still pouring until it overflowed.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, immediately stopping and grabbing some napkins to absorb the immediate spill “I am _so_ sorry. I was distracted and-.”

“No, no, honey, it’s fine,” he said, waving her concerns away “I get it. It grabs the attention.”

“I’ll go…” Noriko said before she hurried off to the kitchen to get a washcloth to clean up the mess. She wiped up the spilled coffee quickly before apologizing again. Once he reassured it was alright, she headed back to the kitchen and threw the rag into the bin. She leaned against the sink and ignored the concerned look the cook was sending her.

She took a moment to gather herself before she went back to work, although her mind was never quite with it.

.

“Noriko!”

The fifteen year old was jolted out of her reverie by the familiar call of her name. She had nearly gone right past the newsstand without even noticing.

“Hi, Oliver,” she said, the man laughing.

“Not going to just ignore me, huh?” He teased, Noriko looking down at her feet.

“My mind is just… not all here right now,” she admitted as Oliver grabbed her paper.

“I’ll say. Did you spill coffee on yourself?” He asked, holding it out for her “You in love?”

“Yeah and… the opposite,” Noriko replied, giving Oliver the money before going on her way. She made her way to the station while still preoccupied with thoughts of abusers and death.

If one of those people had reported it, then that woman might be alive right now.

But, that situation wasn’t quite applicable to this one. If Bishop really did have connections, then Mrs. Weber was right; there was nothing she could do.

She sat down as the train lurched forward.

There was nothing she could do unless… No, that wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t like Akuma-san or Luke. She wasn’t some grand… The teenager glanced down at the paper on her lap and her eyes caught on the front page

**_What is it, to be a hero?_ **

Noriko readjusted in her spot on the uncomfortable train seat and flipped it open to see the full article.

_Look in the mirror and you’ll know._

_Look into your own eyes and tell me you are not heroic, that you have not endured, or suffered, or lost the things you care about most. And yet, here you are. A survivor of Hell’s Kitchen; the hottest place anyone’s ever known. A place where cowards don’t last long. So, you must be a hero._

_We all are. Some more than others, but none of us alone._

_Some bloody their fists trying to keep the Kitchen safe. Others bloody the streets in the hope they can stop the tide, the crime, the cruelty, the disregard for human life all around them. But this is Hell’s Kitchen. Angel or devil, rich or poor, young or old, you live here. You didn’t choose this town. It chose you._

_Because a hero isn’t someone who lives above us, keeping us safe. A hero is not a god or an idea. A hero lives here, on the street, among us, with us. Always here but rarely recognized._

_Look in the mirror and see yourself for what you truly are. You’re a New Yorker. You’re a hero. This is your Hell’s Kitchen._

The train pulled to a stop but Noriko kept her eyes on the page, not moving until the absolute last second to get off and step into the cold air of Hell’s Kitchen. She paused for a moment and looked around at all the people that walked past her. The teenager subconsciously reached under her sweatshirt and felt the spot directly under the center of her bra. The spot where a straight, vertical scar ran for about an inch.

_Welcome home._

.

“There’s pizza on the counter!” Claire called as she heard the door open and close. But, there was no response except for soft footfalls. She turned and saw the way her charge leaned against the doorway with her eyes downcast; the New York Bulletin held in both of her hands.

“Is everything okay?” Claire asked, feeling a tightening in her throat “… Is Matt okay?”

Noriko shrugged and threw the paper onto the table as her eyes locked onto the mail that was resting on it.

“Mrs. Weber’s. Again,” Claire said, annoyance clear in her voice “I can take it this-.”

“No, I got it,” Noriko said, grabbing the letters and heading out of the apartment before Claire could respond. The woman watched as she went before she scooped up the paper; trying to figure out what had made her act this way.

.

“Your mail was in ours.”

Mrs. Weber took it with her usual annoying smile, which Noriko didn’t even notice.

“Thank you, Noriko. Why don’t you come-.”

There was a loud thump from above them and the sound of a woman crying again. Mrs. Weber shaking her head and rolling her eyes at the familiar sound. As she opened her mouth to ask again, though, Noriko spoke.

“Which apartment are they in?”

“3B, why-?”

Noriko turned on her heel and headed for the elevator, which made Mrs. Weber roll her eyes even harder.

“I told you, calling the police is going to do nothing.”

Noriko turned around in the elevator and jabbed the button; the teenager sending her a dark look.

“I’m not going to.”

.

The doors slid open and Noriko stepped into the unfamiliar hallway. She walked quickly to 3B and took a second to listen. Once she was certain she was at the right apartment, she raised her hand and thumped on the door with the side of her fist.

It was silent for a moment.

_“Fuck off!”_

Noriko’s expression became angrier and she pounded on the door again. This time, she could hear footsteps and someone unchaining the door.

It swung open to reveal a man who looked like he’d usually be a strange orangey-brown from spray tan, but was an angry red right now. He stood quite a few inches taller than her, Noriko putting his height at about 5’10, and he tried to use it to his advantage by using his form to block the door and loom over her.

After a silent moment of waiting, he erupted.

_“Well?!”_

Instead of replying, she leaned down slightly so she was looking under his arm and into his apartment. She caught sight of what she was looking for quickly; a young woman on the ground looking at her with fear _._ Not for herself, but for _her._

“Are you alright?” Noriko asked “Do you need a nurse?”

The woman looked at her like she was crazy and shook her head. Before Noriko could ask if she was sure, the man, Bishop, shoved her back slightly and Noriko straightened out.

“Listen, Kid, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but-.”

Noriko grabbed his head in her hands and slammed it against the door frame with a sickening thud.

Before Bishop could even realize what was going on, Noriko kneed him in the crotch and grabbed the front of his shirt to launch the man that was probably a hundred pounds heavier than her into the wall behind her.

He lay on his side in pain, but Noriko kicked him over onto his back; kneeling on his throat and turning him purple.

“You’re going to leave her alone and you’re never going to go near women for the rest of your life, because I don’t care who your dad is and who he knows; if you ever hurt another person, I will make you wish you were dead.”

She lifted herself off of Bishop, who gasped for breath. She took a deep breath herself and found her center again before she turned to the woman, Thea.

“Mrs. Weber says you can cut hair.”

.

“Well, look at you!”

Noriko let herself smile at the response she’d just gotten from the two regulars. The teenager tucked a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear; the cut making it so it barely brushed her shoulders. But, the dye was her favorite part; her pitch black hair was now a rich brown.

“You look lovely,” the other complimented.

“Thank you,” she said, filling their coffee cups “No spills today.”

They both chuckled appreciatively and she went to walk away before she stopped herself and turned back around.

“I’m sorry,” she said “I don’t know either of your names.”

“Jeremiah Coleman,” said the one that always focused on New York.

“Montel Diallo,” said the one that always focused on the world.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you two. I’m Noriko Temple.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

She gave one last small smile before she turned to fill up one of the other patron’s cup. The door to the diner jingled and she half expected to see Jaylen and his group come strutting in, and she was partially right. One member entered the diner and sat in their usual spot. Noriko chose not to dwell on it and instead walked over to take his order.

“I’m Noriko; I’ll be your server today. What can I get you?”

“Coke,” he said, something in his tone slightly funny. But, she chose to ignore it and instead went to fetch his drink. Once she returned and set it down, she turned to leave, but he spoke again “Can you sit down?”

She paused and sent him a confused and slightly suspicious look before she slid into the booth across from him. He seemed nervous by the way he was jiggling his leg and looking around; his dreads bouncing slightly as he moved.

“Listen, I’m sorry about Jaylen. I’ve told him to stop but…” he trailed off and Noriko nodded slightly in understanding.

“It’s okay; I can take care of myself.”

“You live in Hell’s Kitchen, right?” He asked suddenly, Noriko nodding “In Midwest Court?”

She readjusted in her seat in a way that let him now she wasn’t sure how she felt about him knowing that information.

“No, no. My cousin is friends with Thea Gomez… She… She told me what you did.”

Noriko looked down at where her hands rested on the table and didn’t say anything.

“You’re a hero.”

Noriko looked out the window at the city as she considered his words.

“… No, I’m not. There’s no such thing. Not truly.”

The teenager across from her looked at her in surprise at her words.

“You live in the city of Luke Cage and Daredevil and you believe that?” He asked incredulously.

“They’re closer,” she admitted “But they don’t want this. They don’t want to _do_ this. But they keep doing it because…”

“… They have to,” he finished for her, nodding slightly “… My Aunt… She owns a specialty shop on the other side of Harlem. Local gang keeps roughing her up for money; threatening to destroy the place…”

He let the rest go unsaid and Noriko slowly nodded.

“Send her here. Noriko will talk to her,” she said, a small smile working its way onto the other teenager’s features.

“Alright… Deangelo will send her over and Noriko will talk to her. Who’ll help her?” He asked, Noriko smiling softly as he grinned “She’ll need a name.”

“She’s already got one,” Noriko replied, looking out the window to her city. A city full of people who would always need help.

“The Black Sky.”


End file.
